Page 21 of Hooked

I had been. I’d been more than happy. It had been thrilling. He’d pulled me in and made me want more silliness, more excitement, more of the energy that I felt when we were together. But I couldn’t give him more. I couldn’t give him everything, and he’d been quite clear about not wanting entanglements. He didn’t want a wife and family. He wanted to jump into adventure and risk his life without any ties.

And I? I wanted to live my life according to my own decisions, my own wants and needs. I didn’t want anyone to dictate the terms of my living.

But how could I tell him any of that? Any explanation I tried to put into words would make it sound as though I thought our little game would inevitably lead to marriage. And of course that wasn’t true, but at the same time…it could be. The way I wanted to be close to him, and get to know him, all of that could so easily lead to me wanting more. And that more felt unsafe and unsure.

And dangerous.

“I fear…” I started, desperate for words to explain. “I fear that playing these silly games will end with us growing up too fast.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said in typical blunt Falstone fashion.

I just shrugged. “It’s the only way I can think to explain it.”

We rode on for several tense moments. “I enjoyed playing games with you,” he said.

His admission poked at my heart, but it also made me see things more clearly. “As did I. But what if it starts to feel like it’s not a game?” I turned to look at him, remembering all too well the way he had leaned in when we were in the library. “What if that leads to either of us toying with the other?” It was the most honest concern I could voice without laying my heart out in the open.

“I do not intend to toy with you.”

I shrugged. “Intention isn’t everything.”

His shoulders fell, and I think he understood because he didn’t argue anymore. We continued on in silence, only speaking with Marilee and not each other.

Upon our return, I could hear Rogue barking. He was chasing Ansel and Lindy around the yard, dutifully keeping watch over them as he awaited Her Highness’s return. Sir James was still with the buyer. I had become accustomed to the assortment of strangers that came to Sutton Manor, people seeking to buy a horse from Sir James’s excellent stock. Men seeking advice on the best sort of mount for their child or their wife.

So we pulled our horses into the yard as usual. I dismounted, expecting that Sir James would call his wife over, as he was usually eager to introduce her to all his associates, and I would continue on into the stables to brush down my horse.

“Lady Wendolyn!”

My chest constricted. The sound of that voice calling that name soaked me in cold dread.

My head snapped up, following the sound of my real name being called.

I hadn’t been Wendolyn since I left home. And no one had called me Lady anything for nine years. The name was supposed to be behind me. So when I looked toward the voice and saw the man who had called to me—the man I had run from, the man I feared above all others—I froze, my chest and fingers going numb at the sight of Captain Huckley.

My betrothed.

He stood just outside the stables, tall and confident, his clothing just so, his ever-present watch chain dangling from his vest pocket. His face was blanketed in shock and confusion.

Then that confusion morphed to anger…and then triumph.

“Saints, save me.” The prayer fell from my lips as my heart seemed to collapse in on itself.

I wanted to run, to hide, but I was trapped inside a body that refused to move, and instead I just stood there, watching the approach of the man I feared most. The one person who could tear my whole world apart.

7

I was only barely aware of Princess Marilee’s hand pressing on my arm, and her voice sounded far away as she asked, “Cecily? Cecily, are you all right?”

I was not all right, because Captain Huckley was walking ever closer; he was almost upon me, almost close enough to take hold of my arm and force me into his carriage, and that carriage would take me—

Falstone stepped into my line of vision.

“Halt, sir,” he said with calm authority, one hand held out, palm forward to stay Captain Huckley’s advance, the other hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

I knew he was only protecting Marilee, but it felt like he was doing it for me as well.

Huckley stopped, though his eyes stayed fixed on me, as though he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge a mere guard. “You are alive.” It was an accusation.